The deed is done

UPDATED

I got my first trimester genetic screening draw yesterday and I got a couple other tests with it. One was HCG and that result is already ready. I struggled with some anxiety about it last night - what if it was too high? (molar tissue is back, down syndrome marker, etc.) What if it was too low? (baby isn't surviving). On my way to work this morning I had actually decided not to look at it. I told myself that no matter what it was, I'd worry. That I'd find out soon enough the results of our NT scan and that I should just wait in blissful ignorance for that day instead of trying to prepare myself ahead of time which I know won't work. I am not, and will not, be prepared for the results regardless of how many hints I get this coming week from my blood test results.

But curiosity got the better of me. There is a normal range for HCG at this point in the pregnancy and I decided that there were a range of numbers that would make me feel better, not worse. Also I haven't checked my HCG since week four and part of the deal I made with my oncologist was that we would check HCG periodically to make sure it stayed within the normal range - to be sure there was no recurrence of molar tissue growth or anything like that. To be honest, this is one of the main reasons I was scared to check. What if the number is in the 500,000 range or something. I would have a meltdown.

The normal range according to this website for 9-12 weeks is: 25,700 - 288,000

The normal range according to my medical group website for weeks 8-12 is: 10,000 - 100,000 (it says in weeks 6-8 the normal range goes up to 200,000)

My result: 92,488

This is lower than I expected given how sick I've been, but solidly "average" and I have to say I feel ok about it and am glad I checked. I would feel even better if I had done more of these draws and could trace a pattern - HCG is supposed to peak at some point towards the end of the first tri and then start declining so I wish I had more context - HCG numbers in a vacuum are rarely indicative of anything, but I am glad the number isn't out of control high. I refuse to read much more into it given all the variables involved and the ridiculously large 'normal' range at this stage. It is what it is.

C and V keep shooting quick-but-noticeable glances toward my stomach and my, um, chest area, during conversations, I've noticed. My pants are feeling a little tight, but not too bad. C keeps making remarks about me wearing layers. Well, C, it's January. That's why I'm wearing layers.

V asked me to go to lunch today and she's notorious for asking inappropriately personal questions at inappropriate times. Asking for information that she has no right to ask for. Even though I've confided in her before about my previous pregnancy, I am admitting nothing this time, I've decided. And I will lie if I have to. I don't care if she can see right through it. At least if something goes wrong I won't have to deal with it at work. I will have set a precedent for not talking about it. And that's the whole idea. If things go wrong this time, I don't want my whole world to be about that. I don't want to identify with it as much as I did last time. I want to be able to move on and appreciate the good things in my life. So the fewer reminders, the fewer pity parties, the fewer people who identify me as the m/c girl, the better.

Update: after all that, I think I was the one who blew it. V and I were almost back to the office after an hour and a half of successfully innocuous conversation and we were talking about pregnancy and I wanted to relay an anticdote related to my current pregnancy but I knew I had to make it sound like the only experience I was going off of was my last pregnancy (which V knows about) so how does my big mouth start the story? By saying "Last time, blah blah blah blah blah." WTF Astrid!? LAST time? As opposed to what, THIS time? Really? Ugh.

V either didn't catch it or didn't say anything. If she did catch it she is showing uncharacteristic restraint which I appreciate. But I still feel pretty stupid. Last time. god.

Most premature belly rub ever

When I mentioned in my last post that no one IRL knows about the pregnancy, I had forgotten about quite a few people. Namely, my obg, her assistant, the people at the obg office manning the phones...and the two lab techs whom I have gotten to know quite well since beginning this babymaking journey. I went to go get my first trimester screening draw last night and while I was waiting in line, the more friendly one came over and gave me - get this - a belly rub! What?!? I do not have a belly. I was pretty slim in the first place and I still only feel bloated, not even 'fat' and I could swear I don't look any different at all in the mirror. So it didn't feel like the real deal when she did it and the thing that made it feel even less like the real deal is when she she said, hand still on my stomach, "is it still in there?" Lady, I have no idea. And I think the more interesting question is whether it's still alive. Nothing has 'come out.' So it's probably still in there. But what state it's in is anyone's guess. It was all very awkward and then turned outright bad when I was told I needed paperwork for the test because it has to be sent to the county and because I didn't have said paperwork I would have to leave and come back another day. Now, being the diligent obsessive compulsive that I am, I had already called the obg's office over a week ago to get this mystery paperwork (the NT scan people warned me a while ago that I would need it) but the obg's office assured me, up and down, that I did NOT need it. That all my test orders and results would be sent around electronically and everyone would be able to see everything they needed. This is how it works for most tests but the people taking the message, not unlike the people fielding my call about my script (could be the exact same person) are stoopid and did not look any further to realize that this is a special test (nevermind that it's completely routine). It requires special paperwork. If my obg even got the message she completely wrote me off without actually thinking about what I was asking, which is just one more example of her refusing to listen to me. Why can't people just give me the benefit of the doubt? I KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. What kills me is that my obg was supposed to give me the paperwork at my viability scan and must have just forgotten.

This is infuriating not only because I wasted 45 minutes of my life yesterday after having done all the legwork that should have been necessary to make it go smoothly, but also because the draw needs to happen at least a week before the NT scan if I want to have all my results tabulated at the scan appointment. And I'm nearing that one-week mark rapidly. Well, not really. I'm nearing it painfully slowly. But I'm still nearing it.

I still have that lingering feeling of not really wanting to get these tests. I feel like as soon as I scheduled the draw and the NT scan that those actions suddenly somehow caused there to arise the possibility of something being wrong. I hate the stress I am going through waiting for results and I really don't want to stress over things if they turn out to be less than "perfect." There are plenty of defects that are inconsequential and there are plenty of false positives and errors in this process. I guess I am doing it because 1) I really want to see if the baby is still alive before I start 'telling' or getting excited or any of that and 2) I'm hoping to be one of the 95% of people who walk away with good results because that would make me feel better for the remainder of the pregnancy than if I didn't get the tests to begin with. It feels like such a gamble.

Today on FB my eyes went directly to an ultrasound photo on my news feed. It was a friend of a friend's. It looks like 8 or 9 weeks. The message said something along the lines of "we're proud to announce we're pregnant!! We went to the first u/s and there's a heartbeat and it was dancing around and everything."

Now, forgive me for getting all judgy, but it seems early for them to announce this. Of course they'll have a perfect baby in 7 months. Because they don't know any better and that seems to be how it works. Bad things can only happen to you if you know about them. For some reason I get so angry when people are ignorant of how naiive they are. A friend of mine saw the same scene last year - hb, movement, etc. - and lost her baby at 11 weeks. There are a zillion stories like that. And still these people are developing pride over their good fortune and telling the world. This one wasn't even as bad as the girl I saw last week who changed her profile picture to a picture of a positive pregnancy test. She also will have a perfect baby this year, I'm sure of it.

My symptoms have been...better. Nausea in particular. Also energy. I feel less sick less often and I actually have trouble sleeping where before my head couldn't hit the pillow fast enough and I would even dose off at my desk during the day. My first instinct is, of course, to worry. But the nausea isn't completely gone, bbs are still sore most of the time, and I just keep trying to pretend I'm one of these people who 'told' in the middle of the first tri. Then I wouldn't be worried - I would just be pregnant. And everyone would know. And once you tell, the odds of something going wrong plummet. What if I had told? Then I wouldn't have to worry, right? That's how it goes, I'm pretty sure - telling absolves you of evil. Maybe I should run around and tell people right now. To immunize myself against bad news.

DH was funny last night. He came to bed after I had fallen asleep and asked how my nausea was. I think he's beginning to notice that I'm not as sick. Half asleep I mumbled "it's ok." Then came this gem: "Do you think you're getting fatter?" he asked. He probably didn't know how to put it. He knows that nausea dropping off is no good and was probably looking (like I do) for other signs to indicate that things were going ok. But like I mentioned above, getting 'fatter' is not a real reliable indicator right now. Boys are funny.

Living in limbo

A single dad came over with his just-turned-three year old this weekend. She was a beautiful thing, full of energy and enthusiasm for learning. Loved our furbabies, she was very brave and outgoing. Her dad doted on her and was clearly smitten. He could barely hold a conversation with us, he was so distracted. That's like most parents I guess. Being childless, it felt a little disrespectful at first, but I reminded myself that that's how it goes. The dad is not really pretending to care more about me and DH than his daughter in the first place so I shouldn't be so disappointed when I see through the facade. When he stops paying attention to what I'm saying in mid-sentence to make sure she's not giving mac n' cheese to the dogs or to distract her from a distasteful TV ad, I shouldn't take it personally. Kids matter most and they can get into dangerous situations quickly so parents have to be on their toes. It dawned on me that this is part of why parents of kids hang out together a lot while me and DH have started to hang out with more child-free couples and less with our parent-friends. Even after you get over the worst of the hurt of IF or loss (if you ever do) such that you're not 'angry' at reproductively successful people, you still don't relate to them like you used to. I found myself wondering which club we would end up in. Two weeks feels like a long time to wait for the NT scan, but it's a short time to wonder how the rest of our lives are going to look. Of course the rest of our lives don't rest on one scan, but it sure seems like that big of a deal right now.

It also occurred to me how easily I enjoy entertaining a young child being in the KU state that I'm in. I would have dreaded the day had I not been pg. Had I still been struggling with beta hell or waiting to try again or recurrent BFNs. Now that I am, I feel myself becoming a happier person, allowing myself to be happy for other people, the bitterness is dissipating. I am changing for the better. And I love it. I love how it feels and what it does for my life and my relationships and my perspective. And it scares me that so much can rest on something that I have no control over. It could all be gone in an instant. Or in two weeks. I could be thrown right back into a world of bitterness, despair, hate, helplessness, and resentment totally against my will and there would be nothing I could do about it. People say you can choose to be happy or excited or optimistic or whatever it is. But that hasn't worked for me. I feel how I feel. It's like asking me to believe in something I don't believe in. You can't just decide one day to believe something. A belief is not a choice. A belief is a belief - you have it or you don't. You can pretend to believe something or feel some way, you can try to brainwash yourself into thinking it's so by acting as though it is or acting as though you believe it. But I've always thought that kind of practice is an uphill battle that builds repression and that emotions should be indulged because you really have no other choice but to feel them. Why not embrace them?

This is why when DH asked me if we could visit some friends the day after our scan I said no. No, we can't plan anything for a couple days after. "What if something goes wrong?" I demanded. How could he think this was a good idea? Here was his response, "well if something goes wrong it might be good to hang out with some good friends..."

He is a wonderful husband, but he is still clueless when it comes to the emotions that I have wound up in this. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I've protected him by not talking about my grief too much, by not involving him in the doctors appointments until now. Whatever it is, he clearly has no idea what it will do to me if we lose this baby. NO effing clue. And for some reason I didn't explain it right then and there, instead I said "If it goes wrong I will need surgery!" So instead of blaming my emotional processes, I blamed the practicality of it all because that seemed to be the only thing he could understand. I should have added "and it would not be good to hang out with our happy friends and their happy baby less than 24 hours after we lost our second one." After I lost my second baby. Clearly he wouldn't be that broken up about it if he thinks he's running off to have beers with his buddy on his way home from the appointment. It would NOT be good. I get his point - you need people to lean on. But this is not that situation. This is still a very private thing for us - NO ONE (except for 'yall) know about the pregnancy. There is no one IRL that will be able to help me deal with another loss other than DH. And he doesn't even get it. Going out to socialize, to spend another day pretending, hiding my grief and frustration and anger and bitterness, going through the motions of adoring their son while screaming and dying on the inside would NOT be a good way of dealing with another loss. So we're not hanging out with friends the day after. We've also pushed off a visit with my parents.

Don't worry, I'm not trying to live in the worst-case scenario. Especially since all signs are to the contrary. I hate when I find myself planning my life around something that may or may not happen in the future. But I don't think planning your life around a verdict like this for a mere two days is all that crazy or unnecessary. If there's no hb I will need to deal with it physically as well as emotionally. Two days isn't much to ask. I get that the chances of bad news are low, but they are statistically significant. I have 'won' much more remote chances before, like the molar + cancer lottery. So I plan to leave a window. I am going to be firm about that. It's not like we can't see our friends in a couple weeks. I'm not talking about giving up a trip to Tahiti here.

Ten weeks

It seems kind of presumptuous to say that. 10 weeks. Because maybe I'm not. Maybe it stopped growing at 8 weeks. Who do I think I am, exactly? Calling myself 10 weeks, good lord. Way to let my dreams run away with me.


Reasons I think I might still be pregnant with a living baby:

• Nausea. Not. getting. better. Which is ok - again, it's nice to have the reminder. And this is the time it's supposed to peak. And the Zofran is helping me get to work and keep liquids down. But it's getting a little scary 'cause my insurance co rejected my last script. If I have to pay out of pocket it'll be $340 every ten days. Fortunately not all hope is lost because (a) the insurance did approve 20 pills instead of the prescribed 30 and (b) the insurance company says it will accept a prior authorization from my OBG for the full 30 plus all refills. Isn't the script itself kind of an obvious 'authorization?' I hate insurance companies. I also hate moronic bureaucracies. I picked up those 20 pills that the insurance covered and then called my OBG's office to have them issue the prior authorization for the rest. So they called the pharmacy and discovered that pills had been dispensed to me without the need for prior authorization. So they decided no prior authorization was necessary. WTF?! But maybe, just maybe, I thought, they're on to something. If I can get my insurance-approved 20 pills refilled according to the script, I may be ok for a while. So I called the pharmacy to find out if the refills of the 20 will be approved or if its just a one-time deal. They had no idea. I usually do my refills over the phone and I asked if it would reject me right then and there on the phone if the refill was not approved. "See," I explained (the obvious) "I would have to know right away if the refill wasn't going to be approved so I can call the Dr. and have her issue the prior authorization." They still had no idea. They said I'd have to try to refill the script and then try to come in and pick it up. Then we'll know. Thanks, really helpful. I guess it's a small price to pay for saving that kind of money though.


• Bbs are sore. Nipples too usually. I can't tell if they're any bigger. So maybe not.


• Breakouts galore. I seriously have been having flashbacks to high school and have been having to use way too much makeup.


• Dehydrated because no amount of liquid seems to quench my thirst and because sometimes it's hard to bring myself to drink even close to what I need thanks to the nausea. My skin is dry, pee is sometimes cloudy. It scares me because I know how important water is so I'm making a serious effort.


• I cry all the time. ALL the time. At blog posts, at emails, at thoughts swirling around in my head, at tv shows, at commercials. And not just the SPCA commercials, I cry at credit card commercials, orange juice commercials, anything with a parent and child, anything with a bride... sometimes there's no reason at all - I just cry.
• My pelvis feels a little bigger, a little firmer. My clothes still fit. By a long shot. But it feels..different. Bloated mostly. Note, this all may be a side effect of constantly stuffing my face to ward of nausea. And I do mean constantly. I can't go a half hour without carb loading. And most of these carbs come in salty form - thus the bloat and dehydration. Lovely, isn't it?

A few people have suggested dopplers to qualm my fears about how the baby is doing. I am SO the kind of person who would get a doppler. Just...not yet. Because I think that before 12 weeks it might freak me out more than it will comfort me because I might not be able to find the hb yet, even if it's there. Is this right? Doesn't it take a few weeks longer before you can hear it? If not maybe I'll get one now. My current plan was to wait until after the NT scan which will be in week 12 but if you ladies think it would be reliable before that, maybe I'll reconsider waiting that long.

I've been faking normalcy like a champ. C asked about my betas and I responded "still negative! All is well!" cheerfully. The idea is to get her to think I'm still waiting to try again. I also mentioned to her how excited I was to be invited to the wine country in a few weeks for a tasting trip by some friends of ours. There have been some tough moments though. Yesterday three people in a row (including C and V) stopped by to ask if I was going to the firm happy hour that evening. No chance. I told them I had too much work. Which is true. But seriously, this happens about once a week and I am starting to wonder if everyone thinks I hate them. I never want to hang out anymore. Shows you how much of our socializing centers on alcohol doesn't it?

The wait is killing me. I had kind of a perverse thought on my way to work today. Week ten means I could get CVS! I could know now if the baby is ok - living, healthy, chromosomal abnormality free, etc. I could even get to know the gender. There's just that small risk of miscarriage. Which I kind of face anyway, still being in the first tri and all. But no, I don't want to subject myself to any additional risk of m/c. But the price of avoiding said risk is having to wait over two more weeks. Man, it seems like a close one. But I think I'll resist the CVS unless the NT scan goes badly. There's no guarantee they could even get me in sooner than my NT is scheduled for anyway. But man, it would be nice to just know. Isn't that the whole name of the game here? What are we willing to give up, how much are we willing to pay, to what lengths are we willing to go, and how long are we willing to wait, for more information. That's it, just to know what's already going on anyway. As far as technology has come, sometimes it seems frustratingly unsatisfactory.

Nine weeks

Seriously? That's it? I figured it had been at least 87. These are the longest days. I would even venture to guess that, should this pregnancy continue any further, these will be the longest weeks of the entire thing. The sickness continues and I think that has a lot to do with the slow passage of time. It's a huge effort to do simple things like take a shower, standing up and all. Or making food (the smells kill me), or getting to work. Keeping myself upright for 8 hours at a time. I even have to sit down while I brush my teeth now. I have to keep the window open at work no matter how cold it is because I need the fresh air. So I'll be sitting at my desk with a parka on and gloves trying to explain to people my newfound passion for outside air when they come in and make remarks about how cold it is. These are all very welcome efforts and I continue to look forward to them every day. They are the little reminders. I'm just sayin' they are such good reminders that it is impossible to distract myself from how very long there is to go 'til the 'safety zone' of post-NT scan world or the second trimester.

The Parent!ing website says that by 9 weeks ...

"The embryo may now officially be called a fetus..." That's nice. I thought that happened at 8 weeks, but I guess I stand corrected. Makes it sound more like a person and less like a cell cluster.

"[The fetus is] about the size of a strawberry." Awwww. Some people don't like it when their in-utero babies are compared to fruit. Something about them being edible. I think it's fine, it gives some depth perception. And strawberries are cute. Don't know how it's fitting in there without any evidence of a belly. My pelvis feels firmer, i think my pants feel tighter, but really if I wasn't paying this much attention I probably wouldn't notice.

"You may no longer feel as nauseated and fatigued as you've been the past two months." I didn't know that those symptoms could abate so early. I hope it's true because I've actually felt a little better over the last 24 hours. It could just be that I'm having a good day, relatively speaking (I still feel pretty pukey). It could mean the worst is happening. But now a third possibility - I could have reached the morning sickness summit and started down the other side. What a nice thought.


"Through the placental wall, the embryo [this is from week 8] is able to absorb oxygen, proteins, sugar, and fat for the crucial task of building cells." Uh-oh. So the placental wall is already permeable. Well, I'm not happy to hear that after drinking all that cl!nique foundation yesterday. That had to have some dangerous stuff in it. No, I'm not kidding, unfortunately. In my clutziness and morning haze I somehow managed to actually ingest foundation while I was getting ready for work. Trace amounts I think, but still. I was shaking the bottle 'cause it's nearing empty and it slipped and drops of foundation went everywhere. Including, it turns out, into the glass of water I always have on the bathroom counter as I'm getting ready for work. I didn't notice this until I had popped a zofran and taken two gulps out of said glass. Then, down past the end of my nose in mid-gulp I saw the hazy, clumpy, flesh-colored mass at the bottom and quickly spit out that second gulp I was taking and poured out the rest. But it was too late for that first gulp. I considered inducing vomiting. I considered going to Dr. Google, or my real doctor. But upon executing a few experiments involving new glasses of water and intentional dispensing of makeup into them I discovered that most of the stuff stays on the bottom and it's not likely that I ingested very much at all with that one gulp off the top. It's amazing how congealed that stuff stays in water, it totally holds it's shape. I had no idea, (and in what universe does anyone have the opportunity to discover this kind of thing!?!? Only my universe, I am sure of it.). So I probably ingested particles the size of dust. I've been trying not to worry. Trying to stay off of Google. Trying to tell myself that spitting in the wind will not kill or maim one's baby. It's nothing. But then I thought of it's tiny brain forming, it's tiny organs, tiny limbs. This is probably the worst possible point in the pregnancy to expose it to poisons. But then I also thought - how bad could it really be? Everyone who wears makeup probably ingests some trace amount of it over the course of the day, right? Who knows. I'm over it. There's nothing that can be done.


What I'm not over is how on earth could that actually happened, and more importantly, how could it happen now? It has never happened in all my long years of applying makeup with water glasses near by. What a strange thing. Something I wouldn't have even thought twice about pre-pregnancy but which sent me into a tailspin thinking about all the damage that could be caused. Who drinks makeup? I always read on message boards people saying makeup is fine during pregnancy because only tiny amounts are absorbed by the skin, it's not like you're eating it! Oh, but I am eating it. What then? Is it lights off?

At least it wasn't paint or windex or mercury out of the thermometer. That's next though, you watch. I can assure you I am going to be inspecting my beverages with a fine-tooth comb from now on. As if I weren't paranoid enough, now I have to deal with spontaneous accidental chemical infusions.

Just stopping by

I feel my posting slowing down. And it's not the "pregnancy= less blogging" phenomenon. Au contraire, prior to this point I think I've blogged more frequently since getting my bfp. I'm afraid it's the "getting-so-close-I-can-almost-taste-it-so-I-better-just-forget-about-it-or-I'll-drive-myself-crazy-or-jinx-it = less blogging."

If I was a betting person, I'd say today, the peanut is still in there. Alive and kicking. My symptoms are ratcheting up by the day. That means vomiting notwithstanding the zofran now. I still made it into work today but I'm not sure how much longer that's going to last. I can barely stand up or speak to people or read without feeling that sweaty, weak, panicky I'm-gonna-puke feeling. I've resorted to all saltines all the time. Last night I made myself plain steamed rice for dinner. With a little soy sauce. I tried some rainbow sherbet (something I've been craving) for dessert and even that was too much for my poor system to handle. And while the feeling of constant debilitating nausea is quite miserable, in itself, there are still moments when all I can think is "F yeah, bring it! More more!" because I know it's a good sign. I just struggle to balance the goodness of retching with the goodness of hydration and nutrition. No more spotting, not since NYE. And my skin is finally coming around to the fact that I'm knocked up. That took longer than I expected.

I have somehow been able to avoid people that I know are on pregnancy watch. Especially V and C. That is my only goal for now. Avoid avoid avoid. Avoid the subject, avoid being around people when I'm sick (which is always), avoid saying the words out loud. So it may be patently obvious what's going on, but I haven't had to deal with it yet. I don't plan on dealing with it until after the NT scan. Even if that means my whole office thinks that I've turned into a slacker bitch who shows up at 9:30, leaves before 5, bills next to nothing and won't talk to anyone. Hopefully, hopefully, there will be a perfectly good explanation forthcoming in a few weeks.

Before I got pregnant this time I used to think I really wanted to blind-side people with the news. I wanted them to have NO idea it was coming. I think ideally, I'd still want it that way. But I don't think it's possible at this point. And given that this sickness is making the ideal scenario impossible by recklessly giving me away, I almost hope they understand what's going on so they don't judge my new habits too harshly. For example, I hope my boss gets a clue before he starts deliberately withholding work and suggesting that maybe I'd be happier somewhere else. And I hope C doesn't press for that happy hour this week. I'd rather just let the elephant stand there in the room for a while. I don't mind him as much as I thought I would.

DH asked yesterday about when I would go on maternity leave and how long it would last. I told him I didn't know, I didn't want to think about it yet. But of course I knew. The calculation was done automatically in my head, even before we conceived. Eventually he got it out of me. It's amazing when I slip and allow myself into that world where everything works out. It really is a great feeling. But one of those kinds of great feelings where you feel immediately guilty afterwards.

How 'bout some living while you wait

I'm starting to divorce myself from this pregnancy again. The same way I tried to do during the month between my BFP and viability scan. I find myself not wanting to talk about it. Not wanting to think about it. Refusing to allow myself to even window-shop for maternity clothes or fantasize about how I will tell people. It doesn't feel safe to believe yet.


I wish I could forget altogether for a while. It's going to be one whole long month before we know anything more - whether it's alive, whether it's healthy - and if I keep struggling with this "what is it safe to get excited about and what should I stay away from so as not to get my hopes up?"... if I keep living in that struggle for 30 more days, I will drive myself absolutely nuts. So not thinking about it would be easier. Of course that's impossible. I thought about it this weekend when I had to tell my parents I couldn't go with them on their vacation, I thought about it last night as my SIL was telling me about her labor experience and child-rearing (as far as I can tell she has NO idea about the pregnancy, it was just a coincidence), I wondered how much it was safe to participate in the conversation, and how engaged it would be appropriate to seem.

I can't forget, of course. I have to treat my body like its pregnant. And my body certainly treats me like it's pregnant...so far...thankfully. It's always on my mind. Beyond passing on the wine and brie it manifests in justifiably sleeping in, keeping track of how many zofr@ns I've taken today, uncontrollable weepiness in front of the TV. I am very much pregnant. This is the prototypical pregnancy. But because that doesn't bring me enough comfort that it will be healthy, I continue to deny, deny, deny.

A month is a really long time to suffer through these symptoms without knowing what will happen on the other side. This is another reason I need to try to forget. Because it's not right to think of this process as "worth it" if, at the end of the month everything looks good or "not worth it" if there's no heartbeat. If this pregnancy is unsuccessful it would not be healthy to lament that I've spent six months in the first trimester over the last year and have no baby to show for it. This is the process. I have to accept it. And if I can't accept it, I have to distract myself from perceived injustices and have to find a way to live while I wait.

So I will work as hard as possible. I will fill my thoughts with other things. I will not put up a ticker counting down to the NT scan. I will try not to talk about the scan much at all after this post. I will continue to give DH one-word answers when he raises the subject. He's adorable and I so very much want to indulge him, but I can't. When I'm crying over some show he tells me not to be sad because it will make the peanut sad. He tells me he's excited and asks if I'm excited. "I will be," I respond, "if everything goes ok with the next appointment." He responds "Well fine, you be depressed, but I'm going to be excited."

I realize it's a vicious cycle that I'm in. I'll be happy if everything goes ok at the next appointment. The next u/s. The next __[fill in the blank]___. I'll be excited if the birth goes ok. I'll be happy when the kid turns three and hasn't displayed any signs of autism. I'll be happy when the kid turns 18 and has never gotten in trouble with drugs. I have this image of perfection and am already imposing it on this little being and coming dangerously close to setting myself up so that I will never be satisfied. This I will try to avoid and I know many of you will suggest it starts right now. With this next appointment. That I should just let it wash over me. But the NT scan is a big deal. It will tell us everything about how our lives will progress in the near future. It will tell us whether we can finally 'tell.' And I know it's hard to know until it happens, but I fell like a good appointment will make me feel secure in the knowledge that I am having a baby. Not merely pregnant. Of course it will never be certain, but my point is that I believe I will let myself get excited if it does go well.

I don't know how people manage these waits. I have done so many but this one seems harder. All I know is that the days will pass. And that one day, the wait will be over. That is one thing I have learned in all of this. That the day will come. The one you're waiting for. It's amazing when that happens. Because it really does seem impossible sometimes. But it's not. Emphatically not. In fact, the one thing we can absolutely rely on is that time will pass. We will get there.

Leftovers

So to tie up the goings-on this week...

When I was still in her office for the viability scan, my obg said I should get the flu and h1n1 vaccines. "During the first tri?" I asked. "Yes." She said, unequivocally. And then she sent a nurse in to see if I wanted to do it that very moment. Good lord, it's like there was a memo about putting all pg women on lockdown until they agreed to the stabs. I told them I would think about it. I do think about it. A lot. But I'm still not comfortable doing it the first tri. Not just because I'm unsure of mercury content and autism rumors, but also because I don't want to suffer any more symptoms than I already am right now. I don't need a fever on top of the nausea and dehydration thankyouverymuch. Probably some of you think I'm being irresponsible. Careless. I am taking my health and that of the fetus (it's a fetus today!) seriously and being compulsive about staying germ-free. I know you can't be 100% careful but I'm getting pretty close. And so far so good. So I'm going to think about it a little longer.

She also said I could double my zofran dose if I needed to. Currently I'm taking 4mg 3x a day. And that is not quite enough to help me function normally all day. I can get through 3/4 of a workday but that's it, no walking the dogs. That's not enough. I'm behind at work and my poor dogs need their daily walks. So now she's sanctioned 8mg 3x a day. Wow, that seems like a lot. I'm trying to figure out the goal here. Is it to feel completely normal 24/7? I can take a little nausea and a little less medication if it helps the embryo (still an embryo 'til tomorrow) stay safer. But the obg seems not to care much about the bigger dose. So hey, have at it, right? I tried gradually going up yesterday. But I ended up needing the full 24mg. Yesterday was the first day I actually threw up since starting the medication. A telling sign that it's not as effective as it was in the first week. Whether that means it's losing its efficacy or that my sickness is getting worse, I don't know.

I asked when the next scan was - my obg said not until 20 weeks! What? Unless I decide to do the NT scan. Which I probably will. That will be a nightmare for me because I get so worried. I mostly just want to go to see if the peanut made it out of the first tri (they wouldn't schedule the NT until a week into the second tri). I guess by then I might be able to just get a doppler.

When I went down to the lab after my appointment, my favorite lab tech asked how I was. I see her all the time down there. Every time I come in for my HCG draw pretty much and we've gotten to know each other a little bit. Like I know that she has seven daughters(!). She's always been very sweet about my situation - she and this one other tech know pretty much all the gritty details about how the HCG wouldn't go down and then how I was hoping for it to stay at zero. They've been with me, so to speak, through the whole ordeal. She's very sweet and well intentioned but she's also the kind of person that tells you that if you just relax, it will happen. So I've just taken her well-wishes for what they're worth and then retreated to my bitterness. But yesterday, I couldn't hide my excitement. When she asked how I was I responded "Guess how I am!" She dramatically leaned over to spy on the tests my obg had ordered and upon seeing that it was for about a zillion things instead of just the one HCG draw she literally jumped up and down and ran around the desk, interrupting the whole line of people to give me a big hug and congratulations. It was really sweet. And nice to be able to tell someone.

The 20 week scan magically got scheduled for me already. I have an appointment in March, related to this pregnancy. What confidence they all have that I will still be pregnant in March. It really seems like something that may never happen. Something I should pencil in. Something I don't need to plan around 'cause the odds of it actually being necessary seem so small. I felt like telling the diagnostic imaging guy: No, I don't need an actual anatomy scan, I'm just pretending to be pregnant. I'm not ever going to get to be so lucky as to have an actual baby. It doesn't work that way for me.

DH asked when we should tell people. I would like to wait until I'm about 25 weeks. If things go well though, I don't think I'll be able to wait. And my body will certainly give itself away. So maybe 14 weeks? As long as I think I can go without being visually obvious.



So as for that vacation. I'm not going. I have been too sick and I realized I would have to tell my parents and I'm not ready for that. I don't want it to be like this. "I'm pg mom and dad. But don't get excited about it, don't tell ANYONE, and don't even talk to me about it because it's too early." If and when I ever get to announce this I want them to be able to revel in the excitement. To breathe it in and out. To brag. To really be able to expect a grandchild. And even if they suspect something now, it's different when you tell them for sure. So I'm holding out. Hoping that all this self-discipline will pay off. Sometimes I think I should just tell the world. Today. At 8 weeks. The rationale there is that everyone I know who has ever told 'too soon' has ended up having a perfect pregnancy and a healthy baby. That's what happens. The blissfully ignorant get more blissfully ignorant. Somehow I know that's not a hard and fast rule though. So somehow I will resist.

Not telling C will be tricky though. We used to get a drink every thursday or friday. I can only make up so many excuses. She's on baby watch. I'm pretty sure she will figure it out soon. The question eventually will be whether to just ignore the elephant in the room or to start treating her like a shoulder to lean on. To share everything. I'm not really at risk of anyone else finding out too soon. And I like C. But she's kind of conservative about this kind of thing. When she was pg she didn't tell anyone until she was 13 weeks even though close friends were blatantly asking her. She refused to confide in a single person. I don't want her to get all judgy if I decide to share my news with her early. Especially since I shared last time. She was one of the ones who knew. And she probably thinks I should know better by now. I do know better. But I'm still me. I'm still an open book. I think I'll just see how it goes.

It's good news

Thank you everyone for your well-wishes. I really appreciate it. There was a little 'peanut' in there, as my obg called it. One peanut. And it had a heartbeat.




The day was long. I was extra sick, I didn't have enough work to do to keep me distracted, and I had this growing sense of doom. I think it felt a little too deja vu. I kept thinking - these might be the last hours I can call myself pregnant.



DH arrived in time and that made me happy and more scared, simultaneously. What was I about to subject him to? As soon as the scan went up and the vagcam went in, I could tell there was a small blob and a larger blob. I knew that was about right. But I couldn't see any movement. None at all. No limbs, but more importantly, no flickering heart. My own heart stood still for a minute. I stared without blinking at the screen, waiting, hoping, wondering if it just was never going to happen for me. My obg kept squirming the cam around and I didn't have the greatest view of the screen but still, it felt like the feeling was draining out of me as I grew more anxious. The picture was so....still. There is the 'peanut,'...but did it make it?



Then, without any warning and without saying anything the obg flipped on the sound and there it was. wherrr wherrr wherr. And a jaggedy line appeared across the bottom showing the sound. The tears just came. "That's it's little heart" I told DH.



Everything measured right on schedule. Farther, actually, than I had expected. I had calculated 7w3d but it's 7w5d apparently. EDD is 8/20. What she wouldn't tell me was the heart rate. WTF? I asked what it was and she said she wasn't going to calculate it because it's so variable at this stage. She said it looked like it was in the 140's. I was too happy to fight. But seriously? I had never heard of such a thing. She prides herself on keeping anxiety at bay in her patients, but I think it would have calmed me down a little to hear a good healthy number.



Immediately upon concluding that the peanut was viable, the conversation turned to genetic testing. Then it got scary because DH mentioned that his mother and two of her three sisters had developed adult-onset kidney disease and eventually died from it. She looked alarmed and referred us to a genetic counselor. I felt almost guilty and worried. I knew about this - why hadn't I thought more about it? Researched it some? How could I be so irresponsible as to create a life without taking this more seriously.



Although DH is not sure of the specific condition his mom and her sisters suffered from, my obg concluded almost immediately that it must be polycystic kidney disease. Symptoms develop between 30 and 40 or earlier and it is usually fatal eventually unless the patient undergoes a kidney transplant or dialysis. I knew that people in DH's family had died from this but no one in his generation has been affected and I always assumed it was a tragedy of underdeveloped health care in the country where DH grew up. Turns out, the women probably would not have fared any better had they lived here. His mother actually had a kidney transplant in the US and still passed away from the disease at the age of 56. There really is no cure. This is serious stuff.



I asked dr. google about it and turns out, it's caused by an autosomal dominant gene which means that if one parent has it, there is a 50/50 chance that the child will have it. If neither parent actually suffers from the disease, it's unlikely that the child will. So the question is - does DH have the disease? I had never really considered this. He seems fine. He included himself in the generation who hasn't been affected. But he's only 33. Theoretically, symptoms could have yet to show themselves. If he doesn't have it, I'm not so worried for any of our potential children. If he does have it, god help us. He's done a lot of tests though, and they've all come back clean - despite one of the most respectable college drinking habits i have ever seen. So I'm not too worried. We're inclined to not even make the appointment with the geneticist since nothing they could tell us will make a difference for this pregnancy.



This whole experience has made me a paranoid cynic. It reminds me of that scene in - what was it, Gatt!ca? When the mother has a baby and the doctors take a quick test and even as they're handing the babe to the mother for the first time, they're already reciting all the problems with it and the estimated date of death. That's what it feels like sometimes. It makes me wonder if this is all futile. Or how anyone can live to 80 or 90. One thing I do know is that there is enough out there to worry about to kill a person and at some point I'm just going to need to let it go. Like now would be a good time.

The 24 hour wait

I have always been staunchly independent, and I'm not talking about my political affiliation. I have always, since I was a kid, preferred to do things on my own. I am definitely 'social' - I like being around people and having friends - but I am perfectly capable of and happy to do things on my own too. More than most, it seems. It took me years to realize that asking for help is not only ok, but sometimes the whole point - like when there are salespeople standing around in a store asking if you need help, and when you, a newly minted lawyer, are given an assistant, and when your family, who truly wants the best for you, instructs you to ask them if you need their help. They really want to do it. Just like I like to be needed, so too do others.

Last year when I had my first u/s, old habits kicked in and it didn't really cross my mind to ask DH to go to the appointment. It's a medical appointment, they're going to be futzing around down there. The baby won't look like a baby yet. There's really no point, DH doesn't need to see all that. Plus, it's in the middle of a work day. How inconvenient. I'll just fill him in when I come home.

And when I found out the bad news I think I was stronger for being alone with the doctor. I held it together, I didn't let the tears flow until I had to call DH to let him know that I was getting a D&C and would need a ride home. I only lost it when I heard his voice. When I had to say it out loud to someone who would care. When I was no longer anonymous with my pain.

This time around, I've asked him up front to come with me, emotional instability be damned. I've turned into a needy, pleading wifey who actually uttered the words "I don't think I can do it without you." And the truth is, I don't. He has become my rock through this struggle, independent of my conviction that I don't need a rock. THIS is what it means to ask someone for help when you really need it. And it's not so hard. I am asking my husband to come with me because win or lose, I will be a wreck and I will need him to have gone through it with me. I need to share it with him and I need his support. This affects him as much as it affects me and he should be there.

He was predictably supportive, immediately. In fact, after the appointment last year year one of the first things he said was - "I should have come with you." So he wants to be there. He understands why he should be there and what I'm going through, even if he doesn't feel it the same way or to the same degree. Even if he's not as worried. Even if he won't be as defeated as I will if it doesn't go well. Even if he won't cry if it does. He gets that this is a joint experience.

So good, we have me wanting the shoulder to lean on, DH being happy to come. What's missing? A break in DH's work schedule. He's been working 24/7, all weekend, late nights, etc. He doesn't know what the chances of him being able to leave work tomorrow afternoon are. I sympathize, but at the same time - this is important, damnit. Can't he just tell them he has a dr. appointment? I'm sure he will find some way to get there if we have a repeat of last year. Why should it be any different given the possibility of good news?

So tomorrow is it. The verdict. It's kind of like waiting for bar results. The difference between passing and failing is SO huge - the implications of what it means for your life, so important (certainly moreso in this situation than in the bar situation). And it only takes an instant to find out after all this waiting. It feels like the finding out part should be more ceremonial or a more substantial process than a snapshot. After all this time. After all this hope and fear and suffering and wanting and researching and 'being good.' It's also like the bar in that if you fail you can try again. But in both situations, the time lapse between failing and being able to try again, paired with the despair at all the effort and time that's been wasted on this round is enough to throw anyone into a depression. I am not prepared for bad news. I've been so sick the last couple days, I have all the right symptoms. I think deep down I'm expecting this time to go better. Although, I know from experience that all the symptoms in the world don't mean a healthy baby. It could mean a full molar pregnancy. It could mean I see a hb tomorrow but not at the 9 or 10 wk u/s. But tomorrow is a milestone. The one thing that makes me feel better, as I stave off nausea at work and cry tears of frustration as I'm trying in vain to fall asleep before DH comes to bed or take an extra 20 minutes after he leaves for work, as I pass on the drinks, as fewer and fewer types of foods seem to be edible, the thing I keep telling myself is that:

Tomorrow it will either all be worth it, or it will all be over.

In other words, what I find out tomorrow will either be good news, which would make me not care about all the physical suffering as much. Or we will get bad news and I'll get my body back. Of COURSE I would prefer the former but the point is that I will get some (albeit temporary) resolution tomorrow. And that is something.

Unless the sky falls in at the obg office, the next time I post I'll have the results of the u/s. My appointment isn't until the afternoon so I'm going into mini hibernation. Good luck to Kelley and anyone else expecting news in the next day - though we may be at different stages, the waiting and wondering does not get easier and we are all in it together. Thanks all of you for buoying me up during this forever wait. And thanks in advance for being there, whatever the result this time.

Wait, it's a new year? What now?

Back at work today. In my office for the first time in two weeks. I just dated a memo and put 2010 at the end. Now it feels like a new year, but there has been something anticlimactic about the whole New Year's thing for me this year. I've been thinking of this week in terms of my ultrasound, the project I have due, and a vacation my parents want me to join them on mid-month. Not in terms of January 1. As for that vacation, I am in bad bad need of a vacation, not having taken one in over a year. I've decided that if the u/s goes well I'm probably not going on the vacation. It would be too early to tell the 'rents and I don't want to spend a whole week faking it - in part because I don't think they'll buy it. Plus, I probably won't feel great. If I end up miscarrying, on the other hand, I think I will welcome the escape and seize the opportunity. I told the parents it would depend on work and that I'd let them know around the 6th or 7th.

Even New Year's Eve kind of washed over me. I was supposed to spend it at some friends' house - DH's best man throws an annual bash. There are three regular couples at this party every year and when we started the tradition, none of us had kids. Now we're the only ones without - one couple has two kids now. It all happened so fast - it's only been three years. This year I was feeling too sick to move and that was the day I was spotting so I really had no motivation to do anything but curl up on the couch. I felt bad for DH. I told him to go without me but of course he wouldn't. There weren't even any good movies to watch.

When I signed up for ICLW this month, I didn't know quite what to put as my three words... I didn't want to put 'pregnant' because what if I'm not pregnant come January 21? I didn't want to talk about loss either because that sounded too depressing. What if it turns out I have suffered a very recent loss by Jan 21? I did involve loss in my three words though, it's safer. I put 'life after loss.' That will always be applicable. I figure my blog title is enough to at least subtly suggest what the goal is here.

Anyway, I spent this weekend taking a break from it all. A break from my own head. I spent the weekend with my sister and a really good friend from law school - we got pedi's and shopped and ate and talked and I had such a good time. I've realized that while pregnancy used to seem purely exciting, it's taken on a taint of being scary and sad and overwhelming and, to be frank, it was nice not to think about it for a while. I'm so tired of the fear. As exciting as pregnancy is, the overriding anxiety and uncertainty make me feel like I want to just turn off the thoughts sometimes. To just not think about it. To let go, and let it be. And that has helped me enjoy these last few days before the first u/s. That and the zofr@n.

In search of my morning sickness

UPDATED at the bottom

Two days ago I was convinced that I was going to have to start taking four of my 4mg zofr@ns a day (instead of the prescribed three) to ward off the nausea. It was that bad. I'd take a pill and I'd feel just barely able to get off the couch, and six hrs later I'd be debilitated again. I was wondering how I was going to explain this "increased dose" idea to my obg.

But then, yesterday, I took two. One at 10am, one at 2pm and by bedtime...I didn't need another one. Commence freaking out. I felt really normal. I actually could take gulps of water and almost anything sounded good to eat. I was devastated. This could be the beginning of the end. I didn't sleep well. I was too worried, my mind was racing - I was thinking things like "I will not opt for the D&C again because I've already had one and don't want to increase my chances any further of incompetent cervix. So that meant they'd have to induce a m/c medically. Which would be painful and may require a couple days away from work. I can't miss any more work - please don't let this all be a waste! Maybe I can do the meds next weekend. We'd have to call off that luncheon with SIL but DH will understand... And the pain it will cause - why is it all so unfair?!"

When I did sleep I had bad dreams. I dreamed I was back at work and saw C walking down the hall towards my office with another co-worker's new baby. Instead of getting all genuinely excited about babies! the way I have been since getting my bfp, in my dream I just spun on my heel and walked as quickly as I could back into my office, pretending not to see her. I was insensed and bitter and angry even in my dream.

In the dark of night I tried to explain to myself that maybe zofr@n has a cumulative effect. Maybe after a few days of taking it, the symptoms really begin to disappear and you don't need as much of the drug. And maybe it takes longer to wear off after taking it for a few days (as opposed to just a one-time dose). But I don't know if that's right. Correct me if I'm wrong but I think it just works 8-12 hrs and then you go right back to where you started from, which for me, was dead sick. I even tried to convince myself that weaning off the zo!oft was compounding my nausea and now that the zo!oft is out of my system, the nausea has dissipated. But I know that's not right. The severe nausea came before the weaning. It was really a great forcing function - I couldn't keep the zo!oft down anyway. But now, is it all for nothing?

I decided to give it until this morning off the meds - and right now I feel mildly nauseus. Not nearly as bad as I have been, not completely myself. It's been almost 24 hours since my last dose and I feel unsatisfyingly stable. My bbs still hurt, which is nice consolation. But I've heard so many horror stories about symptoms going away. Right around now. Maybe I won't get to see that heartbeat.

Does anyone have any experience with zof@n that sounds like this? Does it really take the edge off this long after a dose? Also, has anyone's m/s symptoms ever taken days off? Or gotten slightly better so soon (DH said maybe it was my body 'getting used' to the hormones - but my understanding is that you're lucky if that happens by week 13, not week 7)? PLEASE, no sugar-coating. Like I said, I'm already making plans in the event of confirmation of the demise of my pregnancy this Wedns. I feel like I've already mourned it somewhat.

UPDATE

Thank you everyone for putting up with my daily freak-outs. Your comments are incredibly helpful and reassuring.

Kelley: Your comments about what the dr. said are helpful. It's great to get advice from someone who knows. Whenever I ask my obg a question she always starts the answer with "I don't think I can answer your question because there aren't really any studies on this that we're aware of..." What a cop-out.

Alyssa: I remember when you mentioned your disappearing symptoms and I even checked your blog archives so I could read that post for reassurance. It was back in October! Man, how time flies - I'm SO glad everything is working out for you!

Jen: It could be a bug...although I had a stomach bug last year and this feels different. Longer, more drawn out, and not quite as accute on a daily basis. But of course there are lots of bugs and I'm no doctor, I have no way to know, so I can't really rule anything out.

Katery: Thanks, that's what I'm hoping - that this kind of thing ebbs and flows. I would be a complete wreck if I didn't get m/s at all. Hopefully you aren't as much of a nervous nellie as I am and were able to enjoy it a little.

Anyway, I've been feeling bad enough today that I re-started the zofran this afternoon. Not as bad as the past week, but kinda sick and lethargic. I have company tonight so I need to look halfway normal. Luckily, 'pale' is normal for me. Ha ha.

Only time will tell here - I have to remember that. There's nothing I can do. NOTHING.